


The Night Is Still Young

by ivyspinners



Category: Emelan - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-10
Updated: 2011-12-10
Packaged: 2018-11-22 18:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11385882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyspinners/pseuds/ivyspinners
Summary: They are learning. Sandry speaks with men twice her age, grinning as Yazmin coaxes Duke Vedris into a romantic waltz. She keep up with Pasco, who tries everything he can see. For the first time, she joins a conversation Uncle did not invite her into, and the men treat her like she's more than a way to reach the duke's ear.Or, four nights during the social season at the Citadel.





	The Night Is Still Young

**Author's Note:**

> For KrisEleven, who requested **A night during the social season in the Citadel (Emelan)** on the Goldenlake Wishing Tree.

(year one)

Sandry lets the hem of her blue satin gown trail across the stone floor not because she can keep dirt off the fabric, but so that others will see the clean lines of her embroidery being unaffected by dust.

It is by far the most efficient way to stop nobles from asking, condescending, what she worried her pretty head over while at Winding Circle. As if Uncle would let a fourteen-year-old manage the Citadel if she learned nothing!

They are learning. Sandry speaks with men twice her age, grinning as Yazmin coaxes Duke Vedris into a romantic waltz. She keep up with Pasco, who tries everything he can see. For the first time, she joins a conversation Uncle did not invite her into, and the men treat her like she's more than a way to reach the duke's ear.

(Some, she finds, glance towards the threads shifting in her dress, and try to avoid her.)

It's not that Sandry knows the price of rice in the north - but those who truly advise Uncle appreciate a willing listener. So she becomes one.

They learn. She does too.

And so the social season passes, in serious talks of crops and trade.

\- : -

(year four)

Tris finds the winds whipping around the balcony far better company than the metaphorical tempests blowing about inside the ballroom walls.

The air inside is weighed down by fragments of lies snatched away by random motion, and listening makes her head ache.

She will not, Tris thinks, regret leaving the obligation to dance in public. At Lightsbridge, she will be free to escape into the vast libraries, dust wafting, making her sneeze, but somehow, suspended in the air, still sparkling more vibrantly than the telltale glitter of charms to change one's appearance.

Frivolous.

She can see them through the many-paned windows. Sandry blushing in front of a suitor, Briar charming a noblewoman out of her unembroidered handkerchief, Daja examining the new chandeliers installed during their trip to Namorn. At least they are having fun.

Breezes whip around her, racing and asking her to spin with them in their own dance, and Tris is sorely tempted...

But she will have so much time with her breezes, while her siblings will be far away in just a week, when she leaves for Lightsbridge. So she enters the ballroom again.

And so the social season passes, in snatches of moments with her family.

\- : -

(year five)

Daja feels the warmth of her Living Metal creations as they feed of the copper in the dirt, growing cautiously and beginning to bud off metal flowers.

The visiting pair of Traders ignore the suspicious frowns from other nobles, instead examining the display she set up around the perimeter. At least five or six of the nobles, Daja can hear Sandry think, are actually annoyed because Daja did not, in fact, decorate the Citadel solely for their enjoyment. Daja smiles, with teeth.

She is just as certain as Sandry that some of the stares are because of Polyam's scars, but if the other woman enjoys causing them discomfort, Daja will not stop her. She enjoys the secret glee in Polyam's face, making her harsher, but somehow more transparent at the same time.

Their hostess seems torn between amusement and exasperation, as she glances at the nobles she may someday rule. Briar, meanwhile, grinning at the expression on her face, has settled for delight.

Sandry sets her shoulders straight, and holds the eyes of one of her friends among the nobility. After a moment, the noble nods, and return to business.

And so the social season passes, in small, unspoken compromises.

\- : -

(year six)

The woman dancing with the man whom Sandry has, the entire evening, been glancing at, wears lavender perfume. As he cuts in - receiving a faintly thankful look from both partners, and Sandry too - he can feel the essence tingling in his fingers.

As the man wanders off towards Sandry, the only person the common-born Summersea denizen actually knows, Briar begins mentally calculating how soon he will need to be at Sandry's side to support an engagement. Daj', he knows, will return home soon when the Trader caravans arrive. Tris has another year at Lightsbridge. If they do not come, will he be allowed to casually mention, to the less supportive nobles, his abilities?

The woman in his arms watches her former partner approach Sandry, a small smile on her face. It makes her pretty rather than plain.

Her nails are blunt with work.

Startled, Briar glances at the woman's face. She smile changes from happy to wicked.

The only reason he (and Daja and Tris while they are present) visits every celebration is because Sandry is the hostess, and they want to support her.

But maybe this social season he'll find something else to keep him coming back.


End file.
